Paying back a loan
by SUITOFSKIN
Summary: Rick shows up to pay back a loan, twenty years too late. But what is the real reason he's here.


"H-hey Stan," The voice was familiar. Rick. "Here's the twenty dollars I owe you."

He could hear the money drop onto the table, and he didn't bother turning around at first.

When he did he saw the skinny figure in the lab coat. The same hair, same unibrow, same Rick Sanchez.

It was dry, hot twilight in mid-july Ford was in the Shack's basement taking care of some unfinished business in the Shack's basement.

"Hey, uh thanks," Stan said. "Didn't think I'd see you again. You wanna stick around, I got uhhh triple sec and beer."

"Yeah, why not. I-I got nothing better to do." Rick closed the distance between them and sat down next to Stan. That was a lie, Rick was lying. But this a small one, it had been nearly twenty years since they last crossed paths.

"How'd you find me?" Stan asked.

"Tracking device." Rick said.

"Heh, I thought I cut that out."

"No, it grows back. What kinda beer you got?"

"Old Canoe."

"That shit?! I'll drink the triple sec."

So Stan grabbed the half empty bottle of triple sec and they took turns drinking from it, eventually moving on to beer, swapping old stories and newer ones.

"— So Dr. Yamada's dressed as a schoolgirl and who should come out but Cthulhu jr, over there with an erection-"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, wait… Rick, what do school girls wear in Japan again?"

"Uhhhh, here lemme show you…." Rick pulled out a small mobile device and showed Stan.

"Okay, got it. Why is she having sex with a squid again in the picture?"

"Because it's japan."

"Hah, those Japanese."

There was a pause.

"Why you still here? You gave me the twenty dollars you owed me."

There was a pause.

Rick didn't answer as he sipped his beer, taking a moment. "I'm drunk, you wanna blow up shit?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

They stumbled outside with firecrackers and various explosive shit Rick had his ship.

It was glorious. Explosions; big, small, medium, crackles, bangs, and random flashes of light that danced in their eyes and rang in their ears even after it was long done. They whooped and yelled and then Rick kissed Stan. There was tongue. Rick tasted like booze, smoke and vomit. Stan shrugged, this was the best he'd had in years and kissed Rick back, knocking him to the ground. They made out messily, covered in sweat and stinking of booze for a while.

Then, Rick broke kiss.

"T-this is a lie, I buried my Stan over 30 years ago."

Stan's jaw dropped. He got to his feet. "You know I faked my death, asshole."

"Yeah," Rick rolled his eyes and got to his feet. "T-That's… exactly what I meant." He brushed some dirt off his clothing.

"No you don't, Sanchez, I can tell when you're lying. WHAT are you hiding?!"

"ME?! I'm not the one who had a portal to a fuckin' nightmare realm and wouldn't let me take a crack at it!"

"HEY! HEY! IT WAS FORD'S PORTAL AND-" Stan paused. "When did I tell you that?"

"You must have, right? You've been having memory issues lately."

Stan furrowed his brow. "Yeah, of course! Ya got your spaceship? I want tacos."

"Where?" Rick said.

"In town." Stan said scratching his arm.

it was late now and the taco shop was closed, it didn't matter. They crashed through the wall, and soon found themselves drunk, and in possession of more tacos then they could eat, but tried to anyhow. Also an industrial sized tub of guacamole, which went very well with Rick's half bottle of Hyper vodka and K-lax crystals. When the police caught them fucking in the parking lot, smeared with guac, it was…. something. They both laughed in the squad car, and wouldn't stop even after they got literally thrown in the drunk tank.

They'd been hosed down by other police officers. They slept in the drunk tank, Rick's skinny arms wrapped around Stan's meaty torso. Ford finally showed up at ten am.

"Stanley, I'm ashamed of you, I thought you knew better by now." Ford said as they left the station.

"Fuck off, Poindexter," Stan grumbled.

"Yeah, what he said," Rick muttered.

Both got in the back of the car.

"And with HIM! Do you even know who HE is?" Ford said as they drove back to the shack.

"My ex?" Stan remarked.

Rick was asleep by now, softly snoring, mount open, drool pooling onto Stan's lap.

"He's a criminal genius wanted throughout every reality, Stanley! The things he's done doesn't even compare to just breaking up with you." Ford said.

"So?" Stan said, gently brushing Rick's hair. "I don't care."

"I've met other Fords and from what they've told me… he's "… Ford shuddered. "He's bad news."

"I'm an adult Ford, I can be with whoever I want." Stan said.

"Fine. But don't trust him."

"I never did." But Stan began to think about the odd things Rick said last night.

Ford parked and they got out. Stan helped a groggy Rick into the living room and shook him roughly.

"What the fuck was that thing you said last night? You knew I faked my death and you knew about the portal! I never told you a word!" Stan demanded.

Rick glared blearily at him, "I'll ….I'll show you."

He reached in his lab coat and pulled out a rectangular metal gun with a green bulb on it. He shot it and a green swirling portal opened.

Stan stepped back, a little worried. "I'm not…"

"I-It's safe, y-you'll be with me," Rick said.

"Sure, why not." Stan took his hand, a little hesitantly, and stepped through the portal.

They found themselves standing in a lonely brown field somewhere. It looked vaguely familiar, the sky grey and filled with crows calling from overhead.

"This looks like the place that local mob boss tried to do us in. Remember we had to dig out own graves and then they said they'd shoot us, but you had that laser rifle and-"

Rick pointed to a mound in the middle of the field. "They killed you here. I didn't to get my laser rifle to work in time. This is where the Stan in my universe was murdered. I still owed that fucker twenty bucks so I figured one is as good as another."

"Rick… I'm so, so sorry…" Stan put a hand Rick's shoulder.

Rick pushed it off.

"Come on, I've got to show you other places." Rick sighed. That's where the most confusing and macabre tour of Stan's life started.

Potter's fields, riverbanks, harbors, lakes, jungles, deserts, outer space and a number of graveyards; some in prisons, some in Looney bins, some just regular. All places where his… remains were based.

"Shit, I seem to have the worst luck." Stan said when they finally stepped out the last portal.

"And it gets worse when you meet me," Rick said.

They weren't home, but a wood paneled room with a bar at the far end. It was a smoky room, and a jukebox was playing some good music. There was portrait of a clown above the bar.

"Are ashes of another me scattered in this bar or somethin'?" Stan asked.

"No." Rick said. "This is Stan's lounge. These are all the yous that made it after meeting me."

Stan looked around at the faces that all were his; some were better dressed, one was missing a arm, one was wearing a very nice hawaiian shirt. He did the odds, there were 24. Countless Stans supposedly. Countless realities and there 24 here.

And he felt so very small and helpless, and in desperate need to get drunk again. This looked the place to do it at least.

"So lemme guess what happened. You randomly picked a Stan…" He remarked. "And figured we met and just dropped by and gave me a twenty?"

"Y-yeah," Rick acknowledged.

"What if we hadn't?"

"Hey I was willing to roll those dice."

"You wanna tell me about him? Your actual me?"

"No."

"Fine, just.. get me home it's been a long day."

And that's what Rick did.


End file.
